


Warning Sign

by ellembee



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 20:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17946962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellembee/pseuds/ellembee
Summary: All Detective Peeta Mellark wants is to save Katniss from herself. But some people don’t want to be saved.





	Warning Sign

**Author's Note:**

> I finally wrote something new. Sorry it's not an update of one of my WIPs. This should count as evidence that I'm still working on them though, right? The title is from the song “I Found” by Amber Run. This fic contains references to rape and murder.

Peeta’s first mistake was leaving his cell phone’s ringer on after he had crawled into bed. He needed the noise to wake him in case Katniss called or texted. She was prone to nightmares followed by bouts of insomnia. He had spent countless nights talking to her until his alarm went off, an insistent beeping underneath her voice. He would hang up then, leaving her to fall asleep as he showered and shaved and showed up for work, bleary-eyed and indescribably happy.

He had promised Finnick he would stop spending so much time with Katniss, but he still wasn’t sure it was a promise he could keep. At the very least, he could stop picking up every call, stop responding to every text. But still, he couldn’t bring himself to switch his phone to silent before burrowing into his pillow.

Shortly after midnight, his cell phone dinged. Before he could grab his phone, it dinged twice more. He only managed a quick glance at the incoherent messages before it rang in his hand.

Five minutes later, he was dressed and in his car.

It had been difficult to hear her over the pounding music in the background, but he had gotten the important details. Katniss was drunk. She was at a club. She was alone.

He didn’t ask why she had called him and not one of her friends. Even after a year and a half, he still had trouble calling himself her friend. At ten years her senior, he felt uncomfortable hanging out with a twenty-three year old. But she didn’t consider it an issue, and honestly, the age gap was the least of their problems.

Miraculously, he found parking only a block away. He jogged to the entrance, shoved the ten dollar cover charge into the bouncer’s outstretched hand, and disappeared into the dimly lit club. Maybe he was getting old, but the music seemed absurdly loud. Conversation would be near impossible. Of course, no one came to a place like Gild for the conversation.

The place was packed. Peeta craned his neck in search of Katniss’s dark braid. She hated dancing, drinking, and most people. This was the last place in the world he’d expect to find her. Why weren’t Madge or Johanna with her? They were Katniss’s best friends, even if they rarely saw each other anymore.

A thin, petite brunette caught Peeta’s eye. He froze. Even out of the braid, he recognized the dark hair spilling down her back. And that green dress...it was short and form-fitting, nothing like what she usually wore, but he recognized it from where it had hung on a hanger in the back of her closest for the past eighteen months.

He watched as she tipped her head back and downed a shot. She slammed the glass onto the table, and threw her hands up in triumph.

What the fuck?

She was surrounded by three men; overeager, drunk, foolish men. One of them offered her another shot, but Peeta grabbed her wrist before she could take it.

“Peeta!” She threw her arms around his neck. “You came!”

“Come on,” he said, leaning back to look at her. “I’m taking you home.”

“Hey!” A tall man with dark hair wedged himself in between Katniss and Peeta. “I don’t think she’s ready to go yet.”

Peeta tried to swallow his anger. Slamming the man’s head into the table wasn’t an option, even though he desperately wanted to. He knew what this man wanted from Katniss, what he would take given the opportunity. Peeta reached around him, his hand easily finding hers. She sidestepped the man and rested her head on Peeta’s chest.

She tugged on his shirt and he leaned down to hear her.

“I want to go home.”

It was too loud to discern her tone, but her mouth curved downward in the beginning of a frown. Her gray eyes were bloodshot.

Without a word, they turned toward the exit, but the dark-haired man grabbed Peeta’s arm. Before he could say a word, Peeta barged into the man’s personal space, forcing him backward. Peeta didn’t stop until the man collided with the table and an empty shot glass hit the ground.

Peeta took his badge out of his back pocket and shoved it into the man’s face. “I’m taking her home.”

The man, bent backward over the table, his elbow resting in a puddle of vodka, threw up his hands in surrender.

When Peeta turned around, Katniss was gone. His heartbeat picked up speed, panic replacing the last remnants of exhaustion. He took a few steps toward the exit, and saw her at the bar.

Jesus. The last thing she needed was another drink.

By the time he reached her, she was slipping her credit card into her wristlet. “I had to close my tab,” she shouted as an explosion of music practically shook the place. 

Peeta’s eyes widened at the sight of the two hundred dollar bill. Katniss tapped a pen against her cheek as she studied the amount. Then, she carefully wrote the total in the tip section. Peeta touched her arm, trying to point out her mistake, but he could only watch as she added the identical amounts together and wrote the new total at the bottom: four hundred dollars. Katniss signed it, added a smiley face, and handed it to the bartender.

“You make great drinks!” Katniss shouted, patting the bartender on the cheek. All the man could do was stare. Peeta tugged her the rest of the way out of the club.

Once they were out on the street, the silence swallowed them whole. It was louder than the music, and Peeta didn’t dare break it. He was afraid the words would come out wrong. Everything he was feeling felt too big for his body, and he knew it would seep into his words. He didn’t want to yell at her. She wasn’t even the one he was angry at. It was everyone else. The whole world.

He pulled his key fob from his pocket and hit unlock. He opened the passenger side door, waited for Katniss to climb inside, and leaned in to click the seatbelt into place.

“I could have done that,” she said, a hint of frustration in her voice.

This close, he could smell the alcohol on her breath. He turned his head, and the sight of her face made everything burst out of his body: the anger, the frustration, the misery.

“You’re not making great choices tonight. I figured I’d help you out with this one.”

Fuck. That was exactly the kind of he thing he didn’t want to say. But when you’re angry at everything, you have to take it out on someone.

“Calling you was another great choice, I see.” She tried to unbuckle the seatbelt, but he grabbed her hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that. Let me take you home.” After a moment, he added quietly, “Please.”

She stared down at his hand covering hers. Without looking up, she nodded, and he closed the door.

They were less than a mile away from the club when he asked the question that had been on his mind since she called him.

“Why were you out by yourself?”

“Everyone’s been telling me to get out more,” Katniss said. “Even you.”

“I didn’t mean by yourself.”

“What’s wrong, Peeta? Is my dress too short? Too tight? Should I have invited a big strong man out to protect me?”

His knuckles turned white against the steering wheel, but he didn’t take the bait. “You’re wearing the dress Prim picked out for you.”

She turned back toward the window. “I just wanted to feel something different. I wanted to be somewhere so loud that I couldn’t hear myself think.”

“Well, I’m glad you called,” he said. “I’ll go with you next time. If you want.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” she said.

“I know. But if something ever happened to you...”

“Stop,” she said. “We’re supposed to spend less time together. That’s what you said, remember?”

He winced at her words, at the lack of emotion behind them. Every time he tried to push her away, he ended up hurting the both of them. 

A couple of weeks ago, he had agreed to go on a date with a woman Finnick knew. Finnick was constantly on his case about hanging out with a female other than Katniss, so he hoped this would get Finnick off his back.

The plan had been to go out with the woman once and then tell Finnick the connection wasn’t there. It would have worked too if Katniss hadn’t texted shortly after he arrived at the restaurant. She hadn’t known he was on a date. She had assumed he was home watching TV like he usually did after work. It had been his own fault that he had ditched his date before the appetizer had even made it to the table.

Finnick had been pissed when he found out.

“Your friendship is not healthy,” Finnick had said. “Whenever she calls, you come running no matter what you’re doing.”

“It’s not one-sided. She’s there for me too,” Peeta had insisted. He didn’t know how to explain that being around her after a particularly rough day made everything so much better. The simple act of eating takeout and watching TV with her made him feel loads lighter.

“Whatever you say. All I know is that relationships built on tragedies rarely work. She’s going to break your heart.”

The worst part was that Finnick was right. Peeta had had this thought before so many times, but it was different hearing it out loud from someone else. It made it true.

So he had told Katniss they should hang out less, and look where they were now. She had been out drinking by herself, and he had hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in a week.

“Staying away from you is turning out to be much more difficult than I thought,” Peeta said, reaching out to grab Katniss’s hand where it rested in her lap. She didn’t pull away.

“You either care about me or you don’t,” she said. “Stop pretending.”

“I care,” he said quietly. “You have no idea how much I care.”

He had first met Katniss a year and a half ago when he had come across her in the parking lot of the police station where he worked. She had been beating the shit out of a car with a tennis racket.

Others had taken notice, but he had been the first. He had been the closest. So he had assessed the situation and approached her.

“Excuse me?” he called out, unfailingly calm. While this girl was behaving erratically, she didn’t seem to present much of a danger to anything except the car in front of her.

She stopped, the racket still clutched in her right hand, breathing hard.

“Is this your car?” he asked.

“Yes.” She slammed the racket into the windshield.

He forced a smile, trying to keep their exchange as relaxed as possible. “Did it attack first?”

She stopped again. She was crying now, wisps of hair that had escaped from her braid sticking to her cheeks.

“They said I have to go to the morgue. I have to identify her body. I have to--” She glanced down at the racket in her hand as if she couldn’t understand why she held it. “This was in the backseat. She’s always leaving her shit in my backseat.”

All at once, he knew who this girl was. Her name was Katniss Everdeen, and she had reported her sixteen-year-old sister missing four days ago. Early this morning, a body had been found, and the evidence suggested it was Primrose. 

Detectives Coin and Snow had been assigned to the case, but Peeta was familiar with the details. Everyone in the precinct knew about it. Everyone in town. Pretty soon the whole state would too. It wasn’t just the pretty, young girl at the center of it, but the boy that had been brought in for questioning. Cato West. The son of a politician on the rise.

Peeta took a step closer. “My name is Peeta Mellark. I’m a detective here. Do you want me to drive you to the morgue?”

She stared at the pavement for a long moment before nodding her head. She dropped the racket and followed him to his squad car.

The drive to the morgue was quiet. It wasn’t until the drive back to Katniss’s apartment, after she had positively identified Prim’s body, after she had thrown up in the bushes lining the parking lot, after she had sat on the cold cement staring straight ahead for five long minutes while Peeta remained beside her, that Katniss finally spoke again.

“It was Cato. He did this.”

Peeta knew better than to probe further. This wasn’t his case. These weren’t his questions to ask. All he could think to say was, “You have to be prepared to wait. The road to justice can be a long one. If it goes to trial…”

Katniss continued to stare straight ahead. “I can be very, very patient.”

Peeta had dropped her off at her apartment with his business card and the promise to have her car towed to a nearby auto body shop. At the last minute, he scribbled his personal cell phone number on the back.

“You can call me any time. For any reason. Okay?”

She had thanked him without meeting his eyes and shut the door with a quiet click. He was reluctant to leave her alone, worried that she would destroy her own home or, worse, hurt herself. But what could he do? There were lines he couldn’t cross.

Hours later, she had called to tell him about Prim’s skills as a tennis player, how Prim had been playing for years and placed second in her most recent tournament. He had listened patiently, knowing she needed to talk to someone and knowing it shouldn’t be him. But still. He couldn’t hang up.

Fifteen minutes into the conversation, she had finally confessed that she had had the sudden urge to destroy all of Prim’s trophies which was why she had called him instead.

He dropped all pretense of professionalism as she continued to call day after day, and he continued to pick up.

A few weeks into their strange phone-only relationship, she told him she couldn’t shake her destructive urges.

“I want to burn it all,” she confessed.

“What? Prim’s belongings?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “And the apartment. Everything. I want to set my whole life on fire.”

*

Peeta’s second mistake that night came fifteen minutes later when he pulled into a visitor’s parking space in front of Katniss’s apartment complex instead of dropping her off in front. He had a myriad of excuses, of course. She was drunk. He had to make sure she made it to her apartment, and then to bed. What if she got sick? What if the sadness and anger were swallowing her whole, and she turned destructive?

What if he drove away and spent the rest of the night with this ache in his chest, thinking of her?

“Are you coming up?” she asked.

“If you want me to.”

She nodded.

Clutching her wristlet, she led the way into the building. As the elevator ascended to the twelfth floor, Katniss yawned and leaned into Peeta’s side. He squashed the urge to wrap an arm around her waist and drop a kiss on her head. 

As they approached her door, Katniss lagged behind him.

“We’re almost there,” he said.

“I’m tired. My feet hurt.”

He sighed, glancing down at the heels she wore. Where had she even gotten those? He had only ever seen her in boots and sneakers. Maybe she owned a pair for special occasions.

He held out his hands. “Keys.”

She handed them over, and he continued toward her door. He had just inserted the key when he heard a bang, a thump, and then a laugh. He turned to see Katniss on the ground, one heel in her hand and the other still on her foot.

“Whoops,” she said. 

“Shh. You’re going to wake everyone up.”

She kicked the heel off and it hit the opposite wall. She laughed again. “These are Prim’s, you know. I went out dancing in a dead girl’s shoes.” She threw the remaining heel as hard as she could. It left a dent.

As Peeta rushed over, the door next to Katniss’s apartment opened. An older woman, gray hair tied in a messy bun, eyes bleary from sleep, stuck her head out.

“Oh, Detective Mellark,” the woman said.

“Sorry Sae,” Peeta said, helping Katniss to her feet. She wobbled, and he steadied her before scooping up her heels. “Katniss had a little too much fun tonight.”

“You’ll take care of her?” Sae asked.

“Yeah. I’ll get some water into her and put her to bed.”

Katniss raised her eyebrows in her neighbor’s direction. “He’s going to put me to bed,” she said in an exaggerated whisper.

“I’m not--” He sighed. “Goodnight, Sae. Sorry for waking you.”

“It’s okay.” She rubbed Katniss’s arm. “Goodnight, dear. Sleep well.”

Katniss disappeared into the apartment and Sae held her hand up to stop Peeta. “I’m glad she has you,” Sae said.

“I’m glad I have her too.”

Peeta dropped Katniss’s keys in the bowl near the entrance of her apartment. He lined the heels up beside the boots that stood to the left of the door. He heard the water running in the bathroom, which he knew was down the hall and on the right. Her bedroom lay beyond that. Prim’s bedroom was at the end of the hall, but her door was always kept closed. He had seen the inside only once.

Peeta had been to Katniss’s apartment countless times before tonight. They had made dinner together or watched a movie or talked for hours on her couch. Most often, they did all three. He had even been here this late, their conversations stretching into the night when Katniss’s insomnia refused to relinquish its hold on her. But tonight felt different.

The first time he saw the inside of Katniss’s apartment was the day all charges were dropped against Cato. Peeta hadn’t known that was going to happen despite seeing Coin and Snow everyday. After word got around the precinct that he had developed a friendship with Katniss, Coin and Snow became even more tight lipped about the case. They didn’t trust Peeta not to run to Katniss with even the smallest of details.

But dropping all charges against Cato? That was public knowledge. It had made the goddamn news.

Peeta had been out for a jog during the live press conference. After he had arrived home and taken a shower, he finally looked at his phone and found a message from one of the secretaries at the police station. Apparently, a woman named Sae had called, asking for him. She had left her number and asked that he return her call right away.

Peeta may never have met Sae, but he knew her as Katniss’s neighbor.

“Detective Mellark? Thank goodness,” Sae said when she picked up her phone.

“What’s going on?”

“She won’t let me in. I keep knocking on the door and calling out to her, but she won’t open it.”

Peeta’s pulse quickened. “Is something wrong?”

“I can hear glass shattering,” Sae said. “She must have seen the news.”

Peeta rushed out the door. If he had had his patrol car, he would have turned on the siren just to get everyone else out of the way.

When he made it up to Katniss’s apartment, he didn’t hear a sound. He knocked on the door, called out her name, and a few moments later, she let him in.

The kitchen was covered in shattered glass. Dishes, mugs, wine glasses...fragments scattered from corner to corner. Pieces glinted from where they lay on the kitchen table, the top of the stove, the counters. He grabbed her hands, examining them for cuts.

“Did you see the press conference?” Katniss asked. “Did you hear his fucking father?”

“I’m sorry.” He had no idea Cato’s father had issued a statement. He could only imagine how he had spun Prim’s death.

“‘Binge drinking is an epidemic in this country,’” she quoted, her hands tightening around Peeta’s. “So is fucking date rape!”

The tears came then, but the anger burned brighter than her grief. “He commended me on doing my best to raise Prim on my own, but I’m young and irresponsible. Is it any wonder Prim turned to partying to cope with her fucked up family? He’s lying!”

“I know,” Peeta said softly.

“Prim was smart and kind, and she was so, so good. The only mistake she ever made was getting involved with that asshole’s son!” She headed back toward the kitchen. Peeta couldn’t imagine there was anything left to break, but he raced to cut her off.

“He’s twisting the story,” she said. “He’s turning her into someone else. How could he do that? He knows what Cato did. He _knows_.”

Katniss had given Peeta all the details about Prim’s relationship with Cato. They had dated for four months, but Prim had ended things when Cato wouldn’t stop pressuring her for sex. Cato denied this, and Katniss couldn’t prove it.

The facts were these: Prim disappeared during a party at Cato’s home on a Friday night. Five days later, Prim’s body was found in the woods. She had been raped. The coroners had ruled her cause of death asphyxiation.

This was the theory: Cato had been drunk. He had been angry. He had lured Prim into a bedroom to talk, probably playing the sad, wounded rich boy act that had gotten her attention in the first place. He had attacked her. When she fought back, he tried to muffle her screams and ended up killing her.

Well, that had been the theory. Cato was no longer a person of interest, and Peeta had no idea what angle Coin and Snow would pursue next.

But they were wrong. He knew they were wrong. One look at that sneering boy’s face, and Peeta knew he was guilty.

“I can’t stop thinking about her body,” Katniss said. “I want to picture her alive and happy, but all I can remember is the morgue.”

“Katniss…”

“She must have been so scared,” she said. “Can you imagine that kind of fear?”

He pulled Katniss into his chest and cupped the back of her head.

“I can’t breathe,” she said. Her tears dampened the front of his shirt. “I can’t breathe, I can’t--” Then she was sobbing, shaking in his arms. Almost an hour passed before she had so completely exhausted herself that she fell asleep. He carried her into the bedroom and closed the door.

As quietly as he could, he swept up the mess in the kitchen. Small pieces of glass grazed his hands, leaving little cuts behind. He barely noticed them.

When she woke hours later to find him nodding off on the couch, she sat down beside him.

“Thank you for coming,” she said. “And for staying.”

“Of course,” Peeta said.

“But you should have left the kitchen alone. That wasn’t your mess to clean up.”

“You have to let me help you,” he said. “I want to help you.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think you can.”

*

When Katniss emerged from the bathroom, her dress was gone. She strolled into the kitchen clad only in a bra and underwear and pulled a box of hot chocolate mix from the cabinet.

Peeta stared. Lust and shame competed inside him as he struggled to tear his eyes away from her skin. He had never seen so much of her before. Nudity embarrassed her. Even revealing clothes made her shy, but there wasn’t a hint of self-consciousness as she grabbed a mug.

She was acting so out of character tonight. He wondered if there was something other than alcohol at work here.

Finally, he looked down at the ground and cleared his throat. Maybe if he didn’t mention it, everything would be fine.

“You need to drink some water,” he said. And put on some clothes, he mentally added.

“I want hot chocolate.” She poured milk into the mug before putting it in the microwave.

He grabbed her wrist before she could set the timer. 

“You need to drink some water and go to bed.”

“Why?” 

Her arm was still outstretched, holding the handle of the microwave door. He pulled her into his body, forcing her to let go.

“You went out tonight wearing the dress Prim picked out for you two weeks before she died. A dress you haven’t touched in a year and a half,” he said. “You put on her shoes, and you went to a club and got drunk with men you don’t even know.”

She yanked her arm away and tilted her chin up, defiant. “So what?”

“Are you serious?”

“I don’t need your analysis,” she snapped. “I don’t need your advice, and I don’t need your help.”

“Then why the hell did you call me?”

She scowled but said nothing.

“Katniss?”

In the silence that followed, Peeta made his third mistake of the night. Instead of getting frustrated and pushing her to go to bed so they could talk in the morning, he touched her. Tucking her hair back behind her ear, he let his thumb graze her cheek.

He had touched her before, held her close as she cried, mumbled calming words into her hair, but this felt different. Everything about this night felt charged with something new and terrifying. 

“You can talk to me,” he said.

Katniss stood up on her tiptoes, pressed her lips to his, and he was gone. 

He had fantasized about kissing her more times than he was comfortable admitting, and he had also sworn he would never actually do it. But there were so much about this moment that he hadn’t anticipated, so many new discoveries: the taste of her toothpaste, the scratch of the lace of her bra against his arm, the hum of pleasure she made when he kissed her back.

His fantasies hadn’t prepared him for the reality of her lips and hands and warmth. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

She pulled away first, her lips a breath away from his. “Did you mean what you said in the car?” she asked. “About how much you care?”

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers.

“Maybe you should try telling me how much,” she said.

He kissed her brow, her cheek, her jaw. “You’re the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning.” He kissed the side of her mouth, lingering close as he said, “You’re the last thing I think of before I fall asleep.”

Telling her the truth wasn’t nearly as terrifying as he thought it would be. Not with her already pressed up against him, not after she had kissed him first. Maybe this was his fourth mistake of the night.

Or maybe nothing about her was a mistake.

“I want you around all the time. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing.” He cupped the side of her face. “You make everything better.”

Before he could say anything else, she was on her toes again, kissing him with a fierceness she usually reserved for destruction. He stumbled backward into the counter, and she came with him, laughing against his mouth.

“Maybe we should trade places,” she said.

She hopped up onto the counter, and he moved into her, his body trapped between her thighs. He grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, desperately trying to erase even the tiniest of spaces between them. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she mumbled.

His hand slid up her thigh, tracing the seam of her underwear before dipping between her legs. She moaned, and and he wanted more. It was all he could think of. 

“Thank you getting out of bed to pick me up tonight,” she said, her palm hot against his stomach.

His head was fuzzy with lust and something more, but her words were enough to trigger the little bit of rational thought he had left. “Wait.” 

She looked up at him, her hands on his belt.

“We can’t do this,” he said.

“Is this about your age because I told you--”

“No, Katniss, you’ve been drinking, and I know something’s going on with you. We can’t do this. Not tonight.”

She folded her arms across her chest. It took him a moment to realize that it was out of embarrassment rather than anger. She was trying to cover herself up.

“I thought you wanted this,” she said quietly.

“I do.” 

He wanted her despite their tragic beginning. He didn’t want to be the consolation prize she received for losing her sister. He wanted to be a bright spot in the darkness she was still stumbling through. He wanted to be her happy ending.

“I do,” he repeated, ducking his head to meet her eyes. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before wrapping his arms around her once more. “But I want you to be thinking clearly. I want you to be sure.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, and after a beat of silence, she asked, “Can you grab me some pajamas? Please?”

“Yeah. I’ll be right back.”

Unease filled him as he walked away, but he didn’t know what else to say. He was doing the right thing by putting a stop to this. He knew he was. Still, he took longer than he needed locating a pair of shorts and a t-shirt for her to wear. He had to calm down and keep a clear head.

When he finally emerged, Katniss was dropping a handful of mini marshmallows into a mug of hot chocolate. He handed her the clothes, and she pulled them on. He was both relieved and disappointed that she was no longer half-naked. Nonetheless, he knew what he’d be dreaming about tonight.

“I see you listened to my suggestion of drinking water,” he said.

“You made it sound like an order not a suggestion, but I’ll make you a deal.” She held out the mug. “You drink my perfectly crafted hot chocolate so it doesn’t go to waste, and I’ll drink an entire glass of water.”

He rolled his eyes at the negotiation, although he was happy that there was no awkwardness left over from their kiss.

“Deal,” he said.

After grabbing a glass of water, she took a big gulp and smiled. He relaxed at the sight.

“Come on,” she said, heading to her bedroom.

His heartbeat picked up speed. They always spent their late nights out on her couch. Reluctantly, he followed. She sat on the left side on the bed, leaving plenty of room for him.

He remained standing and took a long sip of hot chocolate. He winced at the sweetness.

“I think you added too many marshmallows,” he said.

“No such thing. Come sit.”

He forced another sip before setting the mug on her nightstand table and sitting down beside her. Immediately, she was at his side, pulling at his shirt.

“Hey,” he said, stifling a yawn. He was tired, so tired. If he didn’t get up, he’d end up falling asleep in her bed.

“It’s time for bed,” she said. “No funny business, I promise.”

He laughed, her solemn look so ridiculous as she pulled at his shirt. He helped her pull it off him before letting his exhaustion pull him down into the pillows. Turning his head, he inhaled the scent of her shampoo.

Then, she tugged on his belt.

“I thought no funny business,” he said through a yawn.

“You’re not sleeping in your jeans.”

“I should go to the couch,” he said. “We shouldn’t--”

“Stop,” she said. “We can sleep in the same bed without anything happening. I want to be near you.”

Her words warmed him. He kicked off his jeans and turned toward her. His forehead bumped her bare thigh, and he sighed.

“I’m so tired,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s late.” 

She ran her hand through his hair, her nails gently scratching his scalp. He hummed in pleasure. It felt so good, he wanted to return the favor. But all he had the energy to do was draw soft circles on the inside of her thigh. If he had been thinking clearer, he might have realized he was much too close to the hem of her shorts.

“You know I don’t have a lot of people I’m close with,” she said quietly. “Prim used to be the only person in the world I was certain I loved. Now that person is you.”

Her words registered slowly, drifting over him as his eyes closed and his breathing slowed. She loved him. She loved him! But sleep was pulling him under, quick and unrelenting. He couldn’t move, couldn’t tell her that he loved her too.

“I wish I could keep you,” she said.

*

Some time later, hours or minutes, he couldn’t be sure, something woke him. The room was dark, and he was beneath the comforter. He realized then that it was Katniss slipping back into bed that had roused him. Still half-asleep, he curled an arm over her waist and pulled her into his chest. He buried his face in her hair, surprised to find it wet.

He dropped a sleepy kiss on the back of her neck.

“Go back to sleep,” she said, her voice already so far away.

*

He had no idea how long his alarm had been going off before he woke. With a groan, he sat up, wincing at the burst of pain in his head. He yanked his phone off the nightstand table although it took him another several seconds to turn it off. Despite its volume, Katniss didn’t move. She slept with her back to him.

He forced himself out of bed and into his clothes. There was no time for a shower or to stop at his house to change. He’d have to go to work in jeans, stubble lining his jaw. Finnick was going to have questions. Great.

He pulled the comforter up over Katniss’s bare shoulder before he left. A thrill of excitement ran through him, a wonderful memory tugging at the corner of his mind. He couldn’t remember exactly what it was, but she had said something before he’d fallen asleep. Something good. Something perfect.

He’d stop over tonight, and then they’d talk. They would define whatever this was between them. And finally, consequences be damned, he would kiss her properly.

His grogginess followed him out to his car. If he didn’t stop for a cup of coffee, there was no way he’d make it through the day. Unfortunately, the line at the closest cafe was nearly out the door. By the time he walked into the precinct, he was fifteen minutes late, and Finnick was leaning against Peeta’s desk, arms folded across his chest.

“I know I’m late, I’m sorry, but--”

“Cato West was murdered last night.”

Peeta nearly dropped his coffee. “What?”

“The housekeeper found his body this morning,” Finnick said. “Coin and Snow are over at the estate now.”

Peeta placed his coffee on his desk before dropping into his seat. A terrible dread crept over him.

“They’re going to bring her in, Peet. This afternoon probably.”

Peeta’s gaze shot upward to meet Finnick’s. “What? No.”

Finnick sighed, looking truly regretful. “I’m sorry, I know the two of you are close, but right now, she’s definitely a person of interest.”

“No, I mean, it wasn’t her. It couldn’t have been.” Relief surged through him. Of course it wasn’t her. His head was still messed up from too little sleep. There was no reason to feel so much dread. “I was with her last night.”

Finnick glanced over his shoulder before lowering his voice. “You can’t lie for her. Okay?”

“I was with her,” he snapped. “I’m not lying.” Did his best friend of nearly ten years, his closest friend next to Katniss, really think he was lying about this? That he would fabricate an alibi for her?

Finnick stared at him for a long moment. “Can anyone verify that?”

Peeta rolled his eyes. “She called me a little after midnight. She was out by herself at some shitty club drinking with some assholes.” Even if those men didn’t remember her, there was the bartender. He certainly wouldn’t forget the tip she had left him.

“You went straight back to her apartment?”

“Yeah. We got back around quarter to one. One of Katniss’s neighbors heard us come in. Sae.”

“She was up that late?” Finnick asked.

“Katniss tripped. The noise woke her up.”

Finnick asked something else, but Peeta couldn’t hear him over the ringing in his ears. The dread came rushing back, so strong he nearly doubled over from nausea.

The men Katniss had been drinking with. The bartender. Sae. The overly sweet hot chocolate...

“Peeta, are you okay?”

“What?” Peeta stood up, willing himself to be calm. These were all coincidences. She had been sad and drunk, and in no shape to get across the city let alone _kill someone_. And this was Katniss! She had destructive impulses, but she had never hurt anyone.

Besides, they had fallen asleep next to each other. Hadn’t they?

“I said, did you stay in for the rest of the night?”

A fuzzy memory surfaced of Katniss slipping into bed, her hair wet. He hadn’t heard her get up. But all she had done was take a shower. She had probably wanted to wash the grime of the night away.

“Yeah.” Peeta was back in her kitchen. He was kissing her again, arms wrapped around her, inhaling the scent of her perfume. But why had she taken off her dress? Why had she walked around half-naked as if it was something she did all the time in front of him? She hadn’t been _that_ drunk. A one hundred and fifty dollar tab, but how much of it had she actually consumed herself?

“What time did you go to bed?” Finnick asked.

But that kiss. She had wanted him, had protested when he put a stop to it. Then, she had taken care of him, helped him undress before settling into bed. She had run her fingers through her hair as his eyes fluttered shut, and she had said...she had said she loved him.

“Two or so?” Peeta took a deep breath and met Finnick’s stare. 

“Is there a chance she could have left after you fell asleep?”

She loved him. His eyes had been closed, his breathing even, and she had said it anyway. She wouldn’t lie to him, not about that, not about something so important.

“I didn’t sleep though,” Peeta said. “I couldn’t.”

Finnick frowned. “You didn’t sleep at all?”

“We had a long talk last night about...our relationship. About maybe becoming something more. I couldn’t turn my brain off.”

To Peeta’s relief, Finnick ignored the part about their relationship and said, “No wonder you look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Look, Coin and Snow will probably still want to ask her a few questions, but…” Finnick shrugged. “A lot of people were pissed when Cato wasn’t officially charged.”

“Yeah.” The precinct had received a barrage of angry calls and emails. Cato had even received a few death threats in the mail.

“I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. I know you care about her.” Finnick sighed and dropped a hand on Peeta’s shoulder.

Peeta’s entire body ached. With exhaustion. With anger. With an emptiness that felt bottomless. But he forced a smile.

“Maybe you should take the rest of the day off,” Finnick suggested. “Get some sleep. You should be the one to tell Katniss anyway. You don’t want her hearing about it secondhand on the news.”

“Yeah,” Peeta said. “I should go talk to her.”

*

The text messages. The assholes at the club. The bartender. Sae. The hot chocolate. The text messages. The assholes at the club. The bartender--

It continued on and on, an unending circle in his head. At one point, he had to pull over, certain he was about to be sick, but there was nothing in his stomach.

When Katniss answered the door, she appeared surprised to see him, but not unhappy.

“Hey. I thought you had work,” she said, stepping aside to let him in.

There was nothing different about her, and she was so calm. So normal. But the words kept repeating over and over in his head.

“Were you careful?” he asked after she shut the door.

Her brow furrowed. “With what?”

“Don’t lie to me, Katniss. I want to know if you were careful. Did anyone see you? Did you leave any evidence behind?”

“Peeta, I don’t know--”

Fury burned through his body. With a quick swipe of his right arm, he knocked a nearby lamp off the end table. It shattered on the hardwood floor.

“Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out? That I’d be so blinded by love that I wouldn’t put the pieces together?” He wanted to scream at her, but he kept his voice down, knowing how thin her walls were. God, he was still trying to protect her, even after all this.

Katniss stared down at the ground. She said nothing.

“Did you kill him?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Peeta buried his face into his hands and sank down onto her couch. How many conversations had they shared here? How many movies had they watched? How many nights had they cooked together in her kitchen? He had spent a year and a half learning everything he could about her, but he didn’t know a fucking thing.

“I knew something was wrong last night. You weren’t acting like yourself. I thought you were just sad, but you-- Everything about last night was planned. Everything.”

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“That was smart,” he said. “Creating a timeline. Those assholes from the club could attest to how much you drank, even if you never took more than a couple of shots. You paid for all the alcohol, so you had a receipt to back you up. And you made sure the bartender would remember you.”

She didn’t say anything. She was still standing a few steps in front of the door, just out of his line of sight.

“You woke up Sae on purpose. You needed someone to see us come home, see how drunk you were. And then…” Bile rose up his throat. He had been so happy an hour ago, foolishly believing that the woman he loved had loved him back.

“You manipulated me. You kissed me. You wanted me to stay. And you wanted to make sure I’d sleep through the night.” Finally, he looked over at her. “You put sleeping syrup in the hot chocolate. You _drugged_ me.”

When she remained quiet, he jumped to his feet, his rage demanding movement, demanding violence. He ignored the urge to kick her coffee table across the room.

“What would you have done if I hadn’t drank it?” he asked.

“I knew you would,” she said in a small voice.

“How?”

“Because I asked you to drink it.”

He stormed over to her, invading her personal space, but she stood her ground.

“You’re unbelievable,” he snapped. “You’ve been manipulating me this entire time. You’ve done nothing but lie--”

“I didn’t lie!”

“You made me believe you cared about me.”

“I do,” she said. She was crying now, tears streaming down her face faster than she could wipe them away. “I’m in love with you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Of course I love you! How could I not?”

“I don’t want to hear this.”

“Sometimes when I’m with you, I actually forget for a little while,” she said softly. “I don’t feel her absence or how sad I am every goddamn day. Other times when I’m with you, I can remember her without wanting to die.”

He could feel himself softening, and he hated himself for it. He hated her. “Katniss…”

“I wanted to start over with you so badly. But I couldn’t…” She pressed her fist over her heart. “I couldn’t live knowing he was alive and Prim wasn’t. I couldn’t. It was him or me.”

He wanted to believe her so badly, but all he could think about was that first day he met her, when he drove her home from the morgue. He remembered how perfectly still she had been in his front seat, staring straight ahead, the emotion drained out of her. “I can be very, very patient,” she had said.

And she had been patient. She had waited a year and a half. She had made sure not to pick a special day like the anniversary of Prim’s death or Prim’s birthday. She had carefully planned every detail down to the marshmallows in the hot chocolate she had drugged.

“I never told you this, but when I went to pick up Prim’s things from her school, Cato cornered me in one of the stairwells,” she said.

“He what?” 

“He shoved me into the wall and told me he wouldn’t go to jail because my bitch sister wouldn’t just lay back and take it.”

Peeta remembered that day. It was the only time he had seen the inside of Prim’s room. He had come to Katniss’s apartment for dinner like they had planned the day before. When she didn’t answer his knocks, he tried the door and found it unlocked. He had discovered her sitting on the floor of Prim’s bedroom, the items from Prim’s locker spread out around her. At the time, he had been relieved that nothing appeared broken. Katniss had given into grief instead of anger. But she had turned that rage into something much more construction. She had started to plan.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Peeta asked.

“There was no point. It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

Maybe not from a legal standpoint, but Peeta would have done something. He felt the truth of it. Cato was dead and still Peeta felt a boiling anger that he had put his hands on Katniss and taunted her with Prim’s death.

What would he have done if he had known? What was he capable of doing to protect her?

“I told Finnick I never fell asleep last night,” he said.

“What?” The word was loud and sharp. “Why would you do that?”

“Sleeping here wasn’t enough. They could argue that you snuck out.”

“I know it wasn’t enough. It was just supposed to cast doubt. They could charge you as an accomplice! What were you thinking?”

“That I’m in love with you. That I’m an idiot.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. “I’ll tell them you were confused. That you did fall asleep for a couple of hours. That I took the opportunity to sneak out.”

He surged forward and grabbed her arms. “You can’t do that.”

“I never wanted to hurt you, Peeta. But I can at least make sure you don’t lose your job over this. Or worse.”

He was still so angry, so distrustful, but the idea of Katniss gone, unreachable in prison, made the ache in his body worse. He couldn’t imagine a life where he couldn’t just show up at her apartment and see her.

“You never answered me. Were you careful?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Your clothes? The weapon? You took care of everything?”

“I’ve been listening to you talk about your cases for the past year and a half. I was careful.”

Finally, he released her and sank back onto the couch. His anger had burned itself out, and now all all that remained was a sadness unlike anything he had ever experienced. He was so, so tired.

“Peeta…” There was so much desperation packed into that one word.

He held out his arm, an invitation for her to sit beside him. Reluctantly, she did.

“I won’t let you get in trouble for this,” she said. “I won’t ruin your life.”

He looked over at her tearstained face. “I think you already did.”

She buried her face into his shoulder. Gently, he stroked her hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said.

“I love you. I do. I wish I could prove it. I wish this didn’t have to hurt so much.”

Finnick had been right. How could a relationship built on the foundation of a tragedy end in anything but heartbreak? How could it do anything but cause pain?

He loved her too. He didn’t know how to stop. And he wanted so badly to believe her.

So maybe he would. If he could overlook the violence, then maybe he could forgive her for the lying and manipulation. Maybe he could pretend.

He didn’t care that she had taken a life. He didn’t care that he had sworn an oath promising to bring criminals like her to justice. Cato had deserved it. A part of Peeta wished Katniss had trusted him enough to ask for help.

Would he have done it? Could he have helped her plan a murder if he truly believed it would bring her peace?

He closed his eyes. Already he could feel the darkness that had taken over her life sinking its claws into him. Maybe, one day he’d find the light again, and yank them both out of this. Because despite all the lies and violence, there was no place he’d rather be than here on the couch, next to her. Maybe this was a sign he could still save her.

Or maybe this was proof that the darkness was where he belonged.


End file.
